Hypothermia
by FoXx8u
Summary: Merlin stumbles into Arthur's chambers in an extreme state of hypothermia brought on by poor living conditions and malnutrition. What's a prince to do? Especially when the Court Physician is nowhere to be found. Rated T. Possible fluff. Merthur if you squint (that's what I usually do); Can be seen as bromance or pre-slash.
1. Chapter 1

Groaning as the light of the infant sun tore him from the veil of dreams, a pale figure lifted himself off of the sagging mattress on which he had slept. Moth-eaten fabric fell to the ground in a jumbled heap, the gnarled flooring visible under the threadbare cloth. Stumbling haphazardly, the boy quickly clothed himself and, miraculously, made it out of his chamber door and down the flight of steps, resting just outside, without injury.

A man, many years the boy's elder, watched the decent with mild amusement. A silver eyebrow, cocked in an ever judging position, raised in silent inquiry as he gestured to a bowl of porridge set upon a table on the verge of collapse. A grunt of greeting was the only thanks he was given for his effort.

The meal, if it could even be thought of as such, was gone in an instant. The bitter taste refused to be washed away by the watered-down mead used to quench the thirst inflicted by sleep. The young man knew quite well that it would not disappear until well after the blue sky turned black.

With a mumbled farewell, the pale form slipped through the front door, wincing as its protests shattered the morning silence. A white mist poured forth from his mouth and nose with each breath. Ice cracked underfoot as he made his way swiftly down the stone-paved streets.

Entering the castle, he was rewarded with a continuous blast of warm air. With awkward movements, he made his way down the lavishly decorated corridors and, after a few wrong turns, into the room of his master.

Catching the edge of the table that lie to the left of the door, he was barely able to keep himself from falling on his face. Managing to seize the heavy curtains in his shaking hands, after several failed attempts, he pulled them aside with a heavily slurred, "Good morning, Sire."

A guttural growl sounded from the bed to his right. The tanned, heavily muscled body buried beneath quilt after quilt of thick, luxurious material stirred, pressing his feather-stuffed pillows closer to his ears to block out the sound of his annoying manservant. Fully expecting an onslaught of phrases like "Get up!" or "What would your subject's think if they could see you now?" or "Arthur, you Clotpole! There's mud all over the floor! And your armor! I just cleaned this yesterday, you Prat!" yet not receiving them, he turned a squinted sapphire eye upon his unusually silent companion.

Black, wavy hair stuck out at odd angles upon his head and across his face, which was contorted in confusion. His gangly form, typically held in a confident manner, was rocking to and fro. His eyes, always dancing with mischief and a teasing glint, were unfocused. His complexion, pale in general, seemed to be a shade lighter than normal.

Concern cleared Arthur's mind in an instant.

"Merlin," he called out, voice rough with disuse yet gentle all the same. "Merlin, are you alright?"

Said boy blinked slowly, staring at him as if he'd spoken with an accent that was difficult for him to decipher. Alarmed, Arthur slid out of bed, a blanket held loosely around his hips. He shivered as the freezing air and floor met his flesh and distantly wondered just how much worse it was outside the castle walls. Gripping his manservant's wrist, he inhaled sharply._ 'No one should ever be this cold.'_

However, it was when he noticed just how shallow Merlin's breathing was, as shown by the vapor slowly twisting out of his slightly parted, dark blue lips that the severity of the situation truly hit him.

"GET ME GAIUS, NOW!"


	2. Chapter 2

The clanging of sheathed swords against chain metal was the only indication he had that the guards were scrambling to fulfill his orders. Unintelligible shouting echoed through the halls and the sound of retreating footsteps multiplied. A few of the large, imposing figures had tried to enter his chambers, only to have a very panicked, very angry king screaming at them for their lack of haste. Needless to say, they left quickly to join the hunt for the Court Physician.

The silence was as deafening as the chaos.

The raven-haired man in front of him gazed about in puzzlement, as if everything was backwards. His feet regularly changed positions, trying, but failing, to find a way to keep the mass they supported still. Suddenly, bright blue orbs rolled back in their sockets and his manservant's knees buckled. Leaping forward, the king heaved the now limp body of his friend onto his shoulders and deposited him on top of the still warm bed, reminding him of just how cold the boy was. He dimly remembered Gaius lecturing him on how to deal with prolonged exposure to the frozen air. Taking in the state of his clothing, Arthur found that the only article of Merlin's attire that was suited to the winter weather was his neckerchief. The rest might as well be sucking out whatever heat he was naturally generating.

They had to go.

Quickly stripping the figure of his deleterious garments, besides that of his smallclothes, Arthur was horrified by what he saw. Merlin's ribs protruded greatly from the porcelain skin of his chest. But, not only was this porcelain riddled with such abnormal ridges, it also seemed to have been smashed and re-pieced together in the hope that it would stay so; Burns, blade cuts, and marks that could only be the work of sorcery littered his skin, as numerous as rabbits in spring.

A shuddering breath brought him out of his gawking. Shoving his dark thoughts and questions to the back of his mind, he hurriedly gathered his blankets from the floor, where he had thrown them in his rush to be of assistance to the boy. Using all the speed he had gained from his many sword fights and knightly training sessions, he wrapped the pale form up snuggly.

Feeling there was nothing more for him to do, Arthur quickly donned his casual attire, as best he could without assistance, in case the physician were to burst in. Despite his best efforts, a few buttons on his vest remained askew and what was tucked in on one side wasn't on the other. In light of the current situation, he could hardly care less.

Walking closer to the side of the bed to check on the object of his worries, Arthur remembered a few words from the old medic.

_'Shivering is the body's way of trying to warm itself. Once a person's body, exposed to extremely cold temperatures, stops trying to shiver, their life could very well end. They will have lost the ability to quickly produce heat. They will need more than just a blanket or a nearby fire, mind you.'_

Arthur unwrapped the boy from the covers and grabbed his ice-cold hands. No shaking occurred. Thinking back, Arthur never once felt him shiver. Not even when he had first grasped his wrist in concern.


	3. Chapter 3

"Where IS HE?!"

The young king paced back and forth at the foot of the bed. He wasn't a physician. He didn't know what to do. Merlin had to get better. He had to! Though he'd never admit it aloud, he actually looked forward to their playful banter, the lighthearted insults thrown back and forth with a fluidity of the mind not commonly found in everyday people. Their verbal sparring gave him an outlet that allowed him to dispose of the everyday stress that came with being the leader of an entire kingdom. Without his cheeky manservant, he would have fallen apart years ago.

Desperately trying to remember how he had been told to handle a situation like this, how to reanimate the corpse-like figure, Arthur sat on the edge of the bed. His hand brushed Merlin's unruly hair away from his face. Resting his palm against the boy's bloodless cheek, he silently pleaded for those azure eyes to open, to show him that the soft breaths he was taking weren't just false hopes. Minutes passed like hours, but only one thing was certain: It felt like all he was touching was a block of ice.

Sorrow seeped through him as he pulled his hand away, only to stop short as he noticed something new.

Half of Merlin's face held a small amount of color.

The half that he had touched.

That was when he remembered.

Slipping free of his top, Arthur crawled onto the bed. Hovering over the unconscious form, he allowed only a second of doubt to invade his determined mind before lifting his manservant and pressing him to his chest. The chill left him breathless.

Worried that there was not enough heat being pressed into the boy, the king adjusted the lifeless body so that Merlin's ankles and arms were loosely hooked around his midsection. He then settled the black-haired servant's head into the crook of his neck. Sliding backwards, Arthur propped himself up against the backboard of his bed.

Grabbing the temporarily discarded quilts, he wrapped both himself and Merlin as best he could, without breaking their contact, in the blankets.

Just when he was about to settle in to wait, he felt the body on top of him shift.

Soft whispers reached his ears. Too bewildered to move, the king listened.

"Don't …dragon…king…coin…ties… lake…pain…fall… kill…peace…time… truth…"

Rubbing soothing circles on the small of Merlin's back, Arthur was relieved when, after minutes far too copious to count, the delirium ceased, but tensed when the boy promptly fell back out of consciousness. _'The speaking must have been a good sign… right?' _As if in answer, shivers of great magnitude began to rack the smaller man's frame. optimism blossomed in the king's breast.

All he had to do now, all he could do, was keep Merlin warm until the arrival of the elusive Gaius.


	4. Chapter 4

His head absolutely _ached._

Noise, once as foggy and clouded as the thoughts in his head, now pierced his ears like daggers. His forehead felt heavy, as if something was pressed against it. It was very unsettling. He wanted it gone.

Raising his arm, to push the dreaded thing off, looked to be impossible. The best he seemed to be able to manage was a weak twitch of his fingers. After the first attempt, he didn't dare try again. His body screamed at him for doing so.

Ignoring the hornets drilling outward from inside his skull, he chose to instead focus on the conversation that was slowly becoming clear to his sluggish mind.

"…Anyone…blame…must be me, Sire. The boy is my ward, after all. If I were paying half the amount of attention to him as I have been to my medicine bag, he would never have made it out the door this morning. Or, so help me, for the past few weeks."

"Yes, yes, but he is my _manservant_, Gaius! He sees you once in the morning, right before he sets off, and once at night, just before he sleeps. The last only occurs if he's lucky. He is by_ my_ side far more than he is ever by_ yours_, which makes this more _my_ fault than _yours_."

The words swirled around him with more vigor, causing an unexpected groan to tear itself from his raw throat. Silence ensued. Merciful silence.

The object resting on his head was lifted off and cool air was left to caress what skin had been covered. Warm fingers slid across his face, checking the temperature. He was disappointed when the soothing strokes ceased.

"Merlin," a caring, confident voice whispered eagerly. "Merlin, can you hear me?" No matter how much he wished to answer, he could not muster the strength. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

Lifting his eyelids apart was like trying to tear a drunken Gwaine away from three flirtatious barmaids. That particular member of King Arthur's knights was as promiscuous as they came. '_Not that he isn't a good man. But, you'd think a guy would have standards. Especially since that one time with the girl from-'_

"Merlin?"

Oh, right, he ought to be doing something about his current situation, shouldn't he? His eyes fluttered open, only to scrunch bock into a semi closed position as the light tried to fry them from his sockets. When everything came into focus, he was surprised to find a very troubled King gazing down at him as if he could shatter like glass at any moment.

"There you go… Here," Large hands pushed a golden goblet to his lips, "drink." Swallowing deeply, as he would have otherwise drown, Merlin had little time to relish the feeling of warm water running across his dry tongue before it was whisked away and the well-worn, calloused hands of his guardian, Gaius, began to probe at his naked chest.

"You, my young friend, are an idiot," he snapped as they grazed across his ribs. "How long have you been going without eating? Let me rephrase that: How long have you been eating so little? Not to mention that you became hypothermic during the night. I thought I taught you better than that. I should at least be able to rely on you, of all people, to keep themselves healthy." Ashamed, Merlin averted his gaze. Gaius huffed in annoyance, but refrained from admonishing him a second time. He glanced at Arthur, who's expression was unreadable, and withdrew from his side. "We'll talk more later, as long as you don't happen to spontaneously combust on your way back to our quarters." With that, the physician once again disappeared.

An awkward atmosphere descended upon the king's chambers, both men unwilling to discuss the turn of events. The pale boy sighed, closing his eyes in weariness, only to have them snap back open as he felt a hand rest on his sternum.

"You can't get up by yourself, can you," Arthur asked, slipping his hand under his servant and pushing on his back until Merlin was comfortably set in a sitting position.

Merlin flushed in embarrassment. "Clotpole," he mumbled, unsure of what else to say. He glanced up at the blonde in front of him. Thanking the prat would only boost his ego. He'd probably have to deal with Arthur calling him weak once this was over. He scowled as he thought of the torment to come. Wasn't it bad enough that his masculinity was questioned on a nearly daily basis?

Surprisingly, the king just smiled. A soft smile that was laced with so much relief and gratefulness that it left Merlin speechless.

And… It's gone.

"I hope you know that I'll be watching you closely from now on," Arthur hissed, glaring torture and death and kicked puppies at the raven-haired boy. "you'll be eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner in my chambers, as well as whatever else Gaius decides to give you. Every last morsel will be swallowed. Not a crumb will be left uneaten."

At a loss, Merlin nodded.

"You will tell me where you got each and every one of those scars on your body. I don't care how insignificant the story, or how small the mark. And, to make sure you never add another to your harrowing collection, you will attend every training session my knights and I have."

Merlin winced.

"Your clothes, as well, will need to be changed. I can't believe how moth-eaten they are! Honestly! They look about ready to unravel into a pile of twine! As soon as you can stand, we are visiting the tailor, and we are not leaving until you have clothes warm enough to satisfy a bald bear and numerous enough to please an army."

Dazed, Merlin scratched the back of his head. Muscles throbbing, head pounding, and mind spinning, he allowed a mocking smile to split his lips.

"Wow," he chuckled. "I should get sick more often."


End file.
